


Next To Normal

by Browneyesparker



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, John Reese - Freeform, sameen shaw - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 22:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7139399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Browneyesparker/pseuds/Browneyesparker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shaw and Reese try to live normal lives after the fall of the Machine and Samaritan. (This can be whatever you want it to be but I wrote it with friendship in mind). Mentions of Shoot and Careese.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Next To Normal

**.**

“Good thing we don’t secretly love each other or this living together thing would be hard,” she says after the battle is over and somehow they are the last two standing, she means it as a joke but they both know it isn’t funny.

They’ve relocated to Florida, a quiet part where snowbirds go to stay for the winter and the most exciting thing to happen are the weekly swing dances at the community center. They take on new names, Riley and Simone Scott and make up pretend histories for themselves. Ones where their ledgers aren’t dripping with blood.

“Good thing,” he agrees, unlocking the door to their new beach house, a parting gift from Finch to whoever had been left alive.

It’s fully furnished. Everything that has ever defined them had been left in New York, including their clothes. Shaw follows Reese into the cheerfully painted foyer and releases a deep breath as she takes in their new surroundings.

“How are we going to do this?” She asks. “Pretend to be normal when we’re not? I don’t even know how to breathe easy, John.”

 _“Riley,”_ he reminds her. “And we’ll take one day at a time. Maybe one day it will come naturally to us. Maybe one day we’ll be able to feel normal.”

“What does normal even feel like?” Shaw asks.

“Damned if I know,” Reese answers.

Shaw peeks out the window. “Well, it’s definitely not this. We’re living in a retirement community, _Riley_.”

“Well, we are retired _Simone_ ,” Reese says and Shaw is surprised by how light hearted he is being. They are still grieving, it feels inappropriate to try and be happy.

“We’ll stick out like sore thumbs,” she says, flicking the blinds closed and going to find something a little less bulky to wear because she feels like she’s suffocating in her New York outfit of all black and combat boots.

She pulls on a southern ensemble of Jack Rogers and Lily Pulitzer and supposes she should be grateful, she’s alive and well. But all she feels like is she should be buried right along with Carter and Elias and Root and Finch and everyone else who given their life up for the cause.

She didn’t know how she was lucky enough to still be standing.

She pretends not to notice she didn’t wish Reese were dead too.

**.**

Normal is Pinterest accounts. Shaw creates one when they are stuck inside because it’s raining, she pins too many recipes and then spends the afternoon tearing the kitchen apart while she recreates stuffed shells. They don’t look anything like their picture but Reese eats every bite on his plate and cleans up her mess while she sits and lingers over red wine and laughs at his jokes even though they are _not_ funny.

Afterwards, he takes her swing dancing and she feels guilty because she likes the feel of her dress brushing against her legs when he spins her out and the way she’s starting to actually feel safe especially when she’s with him. 

They aren’t supposed to move on or forget. They’re supposed to be stuck forever, in a perpetual state of mourning but it’s slipping through her fingers. Things she’s never ever felt before are starting to take over and she’s scared.

 

She chases away the fears with Vodka and Melatonin and slips into bed next to Reese, still fully clothed. Dizzy, she watches the rise and fall of his chest, he’s found peace somehow without strings of guilt and fear and she envies him.

She doesn’t know he’s just as lost as her.

**.**

“Your husband is _delicious_ ,” the sweet older woman named Doris says as she gives Shaw a Martini laden with more green olives than alcohol at a beach party that weekend.

Shaw leans in closer to Doris and lowers her voice. “It’s all pretend,” she shares.

She lets Doris draw her own conclusions and goes to find Reese. He’s talking baseball statistics of all things with men old enough to be his father and she wants to scream. When did somebody as lethal and as great as John Reese sink as low as the latest Yankees and Red Sox scores, she wonders. When did he even start to care?

Reese notices her standing there and puts his beer down. “Simone, sweetie are you feeling alright?”

“I think I got a little too much sun, Riley. I’m going to walk home. It’s just up the street. I’ll be fine. Stay here and discuss the game. I’m just going to get some sleep anyways.”

There’s a flicker of the old fear in his eyes and he stands up even though there isn’t any threat to them here, not anymore since the threat and the Machine and Finch were all destroyed back in New York.

“No, that’s okay! I’ll come with you. Things are getting a little too intense for me here anyways.”

“How a good ole’ New York boy can be a Boston Red Sox fan!” Doris’s husband Eddie teases, laughing a little bit. “You two be safe now! Doris and I expect to see you at Sunday dinner tomorrow! But first a few rounds on the golf course, whadda ya say?”

“Sounds good,” Reese agrees.

“How do you do it?” Shaw asks when they are out of earshot. “Don’t you feel guilty that we’re still alive when everyone we’ve known is gone?”

“Of course I do!”

“You could have fooled me!”

“It’s all pretend,” Reese answers.

And she feels worse knowing he feels guilty too.

**.**

That night, she wakes up with her heart in her throat, her whole body drenched in sweat. The nightmares have been more intense of late. She can’t escape them, not even on a sea of Vodka or in a bottle of Melatonin. They haunt her. There isn’t a remedy for ghosts.

She doesn’t realize she’s gasping for breath until Reese flies into her bedroom, sits down on the edge of her bed and instructs her to breathe in with her belly and let all the air out slowly through her mouth.

“You were screaming again,” he tells her. “More bad dreams?”

“It’s always bad dreams,” Shaw answers.

The New York Sameen Shaw would never have nightmares, would face them alone if she _did_. She would never admit weakness and here she is falling apart like the stronger her never existed.

Reese climbs in bed next to her and holds her until she falls asleep. He’s still there when she wakes up.

**.**

Shaw is not paying attention when she checks the mail. She’s too tired. The driver comes out of nowhere. She can’t get out of the way. It’s too late. She slips into a state of blissful unconsciousness.

**.**

She wakes up to an itchy gown and stark white walls and the steady _beep, beep, beep_ of hospital machinery. There’s a rerun of _Friends_ on the television and Reese is dozing off in a chair next to her bed.

She has no recollection of what happened and for a second, she hopes she didn’t actually succumb to the demons following her around and actually try to end her own life and then she remembers the car hitting her.

Reese opens his eyes and she’s surprised when he smiles in _relief_.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he tells her.

“Not yet,” she answers.

**.**

They are back at the beach house, he’s teaching her to play chess. She plays with her queen and looks at him, taking a sip of her Coke and rum.

“What?” Reese asks.

“Do you ever wish I were Carter?” Shaw asks. “I mean obviously, I’m not your first choice. Or even your second or third one either. . .”

Reese sighs deeply. “I miss Carter every single day,” he admits.

Shaw nods, her heart sinking a little even though John Reese isn’t exactly her first choice either. She hates that she doesn’t actually want to know how he really feels though, that if given the choice, he’d be with anyone or anywhere else.

“I see,” she says.

“I’m not your first or second choice either,” Reese replies. “I am sure you’d rather be with Root, right?”

“Well, Bear was my _first_ choice,” Shaw jokes and Reese smiles.

They play some more in relative quiet, the only sounds are the Frank Sinatra record that Reese put on and the ocean waves crashing against the shore.

“You know, I’d rather be with you than all by myself,” Reese tells her out of nowhere. “I’ve gotten used to you.”

Shaw smiles at him.

They may not be each other’s first or second or third choices, but they’ll still choose each other. For some reason, this is comforting to her.

**.**

He buys her a dog, a German Shepard that they name Cub in honor of her predecessor.

**.**

Sometimes, she lets him hold her hand when they go for walks on the beach.

**.**

“Good thing we don’t secretly love each other or this living together thing would be hard,” she says on their one year anniversary of living in Florida together.

“Oh, I don’t know. I think I sort of love you,” Reese answers, smiling at her as he throws a frisbee for Cub.

He doesn’t define _how_ he loves her but she’s okay with not knowing. She’s okay that they’ve sort of started to move on and put down roots and the nightmares aren’t there to remind her of all the things that will live with them forever.

It isn’t quite normal.

But they’re getting there.

**The End**

 

**.**

**Author's Note:**

> If this is choppy, I am sorry. I realize this would do better as a multi-chapter and I am thinking about expanding on it, depending on how this story is received. I am a diehard Carter/Reese shipper and I know a lot of Root/Shaw fans would not love it if I got Shaw/Reese together romantically. So I left the whole thing ambiguous. If you want it to be romantic, it can be. If you want it to be a sibling thing, more power to you. 
> 
> I do not think the season will end with everybody dying except for Shaw and Reese, I was just inspired to write this and instead of letting it fester, I did it. I hope you kind of liked it and that you’ll tell me what you thought.


End file.
